


vote park jihoon for homecoming king

by 991102



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: 2park is the superior w1 ship don't fight me on this, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, everyone is shook, jihoon is shook, minors ensemble basically, they also play fight a lot, they cuddle a lot, woojin glo'd up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-06 23:46:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12221421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/991102/pseuds/991102
Summary: woojin comes back from summer break looking like a greek god in all his tanned and muscled glory and jihoon doesn't quite know how to feel; woojin has the glo-up of the century and everyone is shook.thank you for 400+ kudos!





	1. spicy pepper

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the shit fest

To say Jihoon was excited was a huge understatement and the thousands of butterflies fluttering about in his stomach could attest to that. Jihoon had been waiting for this day since the seventh grade and after years of anticipation and preparation, it had finally come.

 

Senior year.

 

It would be the year, _his_ year, where everything would finally go his way.

 

You see, Jihoon’s got a list of things he wants to achieve senior year, and by things, he means titles and goals, both big and small, that he’s been working toward since he decided they’d be worth giving a shot at.

 

First things first, he would win homecoming king.

 

(Jihoon has had his eyes on the cheap, plastic crown for years, ever since he and Woojin snuck into the high school years back on the night of homecoming, when they were stupid twelve year olds looking for something fun to do on a boring Saturday night.

 

Woojin had moaned and groaned for the entirety of the walk from Jihoon’s home to the high school, grumbling about how Jihoon was stupid and an idiot for even thinking about doing something so dumb, but Jihoon knew better. Woojin had never let Jihoon go on an adventure alone and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let that night be the first time.

 

A scraped knee on Jihoon’s part and a few more annoyed grumbles on Woojin’s part later and they were over the gate and making a run for the back door, hoots and hollers falling from their lips and coloring the night sky with the excitement of youth.

 

Jihoon had prepared to pick the lock but by a stroke of luck, a broken brick was wedged in the doorway—courtesy of who, til this day Jihoon still doesn’t know, not that he cares all that much.

 

He and Woojin wandered through the long halls, on a journey of their own through the school which felt more like a maze to them the longer they spent in it, the only sign of life other than themselves was the booming music that reverberated through the entire building and made the lockers shake.

 

Woojin had glanced over at him, fingertips brushing along the walls as he walked a bit ahead of Jihoon, “Tell me again why you wanted to break in? There’s nothing fun to do.”

 

“Not break in, sweet, young Woojin, pay a visit to,” Jihoon had laughed, loud and high-pitched, voice yet to grow into the one he now owned, “and trust me, there are tons of fun things to do.”

 

“Well then tell me, I’m bored.”

 

Jihoon rolled his eyes, “God, you’re annoying,” exhaling with a huff, he had caught up to Woojin and took the younger’s hand, “follow me.”

 

The rest was history; they followed the sound of music and laughter, sneaking along the halls until they stood before the entrance of the gymnasium, the entire place decorated with balloons and fairy lights, confetti and streamers strewn about the floors.

 

Jihoon and Woojin had never been to a school dance before, formal wasn’t until the eighth grade, nor did they realize just how big of a deal it was. After the shock wore off, Woojin had pushed him inside and they hid behind the punch bowl table as the older kids broke into applause, screaming and cheering as the student council president crowned the year’s homecoming king and queen.

 

Jihoon watched with awe as the two bowed before the crowd, matching happy grins set on their lips, “Woojin, I’m going to win too, when we’re their age, I’m going to get the crown.”

 

Woojin had laughed, but he humored Jihoon as he poured them both some punch, “I’m sure you will.”)

 

Jihoon had it all played out in his head, he had even gone as far to write down some bullet points somewhere in a notebook, important points underlined and circled with neon yellow highlighter.

 

Game plans were vital to a mission like his and it was important that he follow each step like his life depended on it.

 

Daehwi would be his campaign coordinator, he had to be. The younger was, more or less, an absolute genius, intelligent and cunning, not to mention that he had the student council president wrapped around his pretty little finger; an achievement proven to be easier said than done. Daehwi would take care of all the hard stuff and all Jihoon had to do was follow his lead.

 

Jihoon would win over the student body with those little buttons with his face on it and cupcakes, and maybe even a little bit of aegyo if it ever came down to that—Jihoon really wishes it won’t.

 

("Desperate times call for desperate measures, Jihoon," Seongwoo would say with a knowing smirk, one that would look greasy if not for the older’s annoying good looks. "Use your face to your benefit, it works like a charm for me."

 

As much as Jihoon would hate to admit it, it does work for Seongwoo. Jihoon doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone say no to the older, at least not with much success, nor has Jihoon ever seen Seongwoo in detention despite how mischievous he is.

 

Jihoon bets his life savings that Seongwoo could charm his way out of hell; the power of his sparkling eyes and million watt smile was both fascinating and really scary.

 

"Seongwoo hyung is dangerous." Daehwi would joke, amused as he eyes the pile of chocolates the older male has accumulated on Valentine’s Day.

 

Jihoon agrees completely.)

 

Next on the list is one that Jihoon thinks would be just as satisfying as being crowned homecoming king—not really, but he supposes at least the other boys and the rest of the student body would be able to share a fraction of his joy.

 

He’d lead the soccer team to the national championship, and this time, they'd snatch the first place trophy, fair and square.

 

Last year was one to remember though, after Jihoon had lead the team to a respectable third place, he had received a rather interesting congratulatory gift: a confession by the means of a popular drama pick up line.

 

Not that Jihoon had known at the time though, he didn’t even have the time to watch Youtube videos, let alone try to keep up with an entire drama that he probably wouldn’t have cared for. 

 

At the time, Jihoon had been far more confused than pleased, not at all finding it flattering, but he's come to think of it as a precious memory, a story that he would tell to his children and their children.

 

("Park Jihoon!" Jihoon raises an eyebrow at the unfamiliar face, but she’s speaking informally so he supposes she’s a peer, maybe from another class. She's cute though, her eyes are bright and her windswept hair falls prettily around her face.

 

"Yes?" Jihoon nods, polite smile drawn on his lips; although he's listening to the girl, his eyes wander around the field behind her.

 

"By any chance, do you—uh." red-faced and rather obviously nervous, the girl laughs and plays with her fingers, only continuing when Jihoon smiles in what he hopes to be an encouraging way, "Do you happen to like Messi?"

 

Jihoon chokes on air, what kind of absurd question—

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"I said, do you like Messi?"

 

Jihoon blinks, taken aback for a second, but then he supposes the question isn't that absurd, considering he is the captain of the school soccer team, and they are at the nationals, on a big soccer field and all.

 

"Uh well, I'm more of a Ronaldo type of guy I guess but Messi is okay—" the girl squeaks and she runs off in what looks to be a blend of shame and embarrassment before Jihoon can even finish the thought.

 

When he asks Yeri, who takes a seat beside him on bleachers, what the meaning behind his encounter with the girl was, the red head laughs for seven minutes straight.

 

In the end Jihoon has to ask Euiwoong instead because every time he had tried to ask Yeri again once she’s calmed down, the brat would burst into another bout of loud laughter.)

 

Jihoon likes to think he’s above average in all ways, academics being one. He’s always been on the better side of things, always above the proficiency line, but Jihoon’s decided he would soar even higher and come out on top.

 

He’s going to snatch the title of valedictorian right from Mark Lee's, bless his heart, hands.

 

("Hey, Park Woojin, I need help with this." Jihoon huffs as he drops his notebook into the raven haired boy's lap, pointing accusingly at a particularly difficult problem.

 

Jihoon hates asking for help, especially from Woojin of all people, but it’ a known fact that Woojin is better than him at math and he supposes that when it comes down to it, Woojin is a better tutor than one would think.  


Always ready to give Jihoon a hard time, Woojin gasps, all for the theatrics, "I must be hearing things. _The_ Park Jihoon with the outrageous 4.3 GPA needs _my_ help?” the younger tosses his pen to the side in exaggerated shock. “Me? Park Woojin with the pathetic 3.8 GPA? No way!"

 

"Shut up, punk.” Jihoon glares at the younger, though his lips quirk up at Woojin's antics. “Are you going to help me or not?"

 

"Well I suppose the problem ain't going to solve itself, will it?" Woojin muses, snickering as he reads through the problem.

 

"How many times have I told you, Park Woojin,” Jihoon sighs as he looks over Woojin's shoulder, eyes following the stretch of letters and numbers that vaguely look like hieroglyphics if he squints hard enough. "Ain't is not a word."

 

"And how many times have I told you, Park Jihoon," Woojin smirks, work coming to a halt as he twirls his pencil before pointing it at Jihoon, "that no matter what you do, Mark is going to be valedictorian?"

 

Woojin totally deserved the smack that he received.)

 

When all that is over and done with, Jihoon would ace the exams and get accepted into his dream college.

 

("Where do you want to go to college?" Jihoon had asked one day, it was during their sophomore year, when they were on a class field trip—or rather when they had snuck out at night once the teachers and chaperones had fallen asleep.

 

The others had wanted to go to the beach, Hyungseob had sworn the waves were the best at night and Jihoon and Woojin had gone along with it, and though they weren’t planning on taking a dip with the others, they decided it’d be nice to just hang out and feel the sea breeze or whatever.

  
Woojin hums, hands deep in the pockets of his sweats, and Jihoon can practically see the gears turning in his head, "I don't know." 

 

It was just like Woojin, to not know.

 

Jihoon huffs and pulls a face though Woojin can’t see it, the strings of his hoodie drawn tight over his head, "I want to go to Seoul National University."

 

Woojin whistles, "Ambitious, aren't you?" and then he seems to contemplate Jihoon's answer, mulling over it before he nods, "Me too."

 

Jihoon snickers and coos in a sickly sweet tone, pinching the younger’s cheek, "Awh, do you want to be roomies with me?"

 

"No. I want to follow in Verbal Jint hyungnim's footsteps.")

 

And last but not least, Jihoon will find the one.

 

It’s not that Jihoon has never dated, because he has. He’s had his own fair share of crushes and boyfriends and girlfriends, but none have been serious.

 

Jihoon wonders when he’ll have his first love.

 

("You know, Jihoon hyung, you are, like, super cute." Seonho says through his fried rice.

 

It’s just he and Seonho at their usual lunch table today; Yoojung, Doyeon, Hyungseob and Woojin having some other things to do. Jihoon assumes it’s a last minute cram session in the library, considering they’re all in the same class with the same demon spawn of a teacher.

 

"Uh thanks?” Jihoon laughs, taking a swig of his water, “I know?" 

 

"It's impossible that you're still on the market, like, it’s kind of suspicious.” Seonho leans in, staring him down with narrowed eyes. “Are you hiding someone from us?” Jihoon thinks Seonho would be far more intimidating if he lost the round, thick glasses.

 

Jihoon doesn’t know what business Seonho has nosing  in his love life, nor would Jihoon ever go through the effort of hiding a secret lover from his friends but Jihoon decides to humor him, not bothered enough to tell the younger off.

 

“Are you perhaps trying to hint that you’re into me, cause you’re not my type.”

 

Seonho grimaces, all kinds of disgust washing over his features, “Gross.”

 

Jihoon laughs and he shrugs,

 

"I just haven't found someone interesting yet.")

 

If all goes well, senior year would change that.

 

Call him crazy, but Jihoon just has a feeling.

 

 

  
  
**→ [ 3 ] texts from hwiparam**

 

have u seen woojin hyung yet

 

bit c h

 

u wiLL NOT BELIEVE  
  
  
  
**→ [ 2 ] texts to hwiparam**

 

ummm no ??

 

i thought he was coming back next week  
  
  
  
**→ [ 3 ] texts from hwiparam**

 

he came back last night w out his parents cause he didn’t want to miss the first day of school

 

how cute is that

 

a ny w a y  
  
  
  
**→ [ 1 ] texts to hwiparam**

 

get to the point already david  
  
  
  
**→ [ 6 ] texts from hwiparam**

 

when will u lET THAT DIE

 

ANYWAY

 

BIT CH WOOJIN HYUNG GOT HOT

 

I REPEAT.

 

THE OVERCOOKED BROCCOLI PARK WOOJIN THAT WE KNOW IS NO MORE

 

HE HAS BECOME A SPICY PEPPER WITH A HINT OF PARSLEY  
  
  
  
**→ [ 3 ] texts to hwiparam**

 

my woojin

 

pink sweats, snaggletoothed, hello cleopatra extraordinaire park woojin ????

 

i call bullshit  
  
  
  
**→ [ 3 ] texts from hwiparam**

 

fine don't take my word for it

 

don't come crying to me when u realize i'm right

 

like always  
  
  
  
**→ [ 1 ] texts to hwiparam**

 

i'll believe it when i see it  
  
  
  
**→ [ 2 ] texts from hwiparam**

 

suit urself jihoonie

 

prepare ur heart, my sweet child  


 

 

 

Prepare his heart he did, just in case Daehwi was right, like he usually was.  


 

  
  
**→ [ 1 ] texts from boa only one**

 

twice.knockknock.mp3  


 

 

  
Though no amount of preparation or anticipation could spare Jihoon the shock of throwing open his front door to come face to face with Woojin. 

 

There he was, in all his glory, leaning against Jihoon's door frame, features and body and entire aura refined almost beyond recognition. 

 

Jihoon's jaw drops.

 

Woojin—he, _holy shit._

 

Park Woojin _is_ hot.

 

It takes Jihoon a whole minute to form a coherent sentence,

 

"Spicy pepper with a hint of parsley indeed."


	2. told you so

 "You said _what?_ " Haknyeon shouts, disbelief coloring his features, eyebrows shooting into the atmosphere and mouth falling open. 

 

"I _know_ , okay?" Jihoon groans. He wills himself to suppress the color rising to his face when a number of their classmates turn around to stare at the commotion (commotion as in Joo Haknyeon and his chronic inability to talk in a whisper). "Now lower your voice! People are looking!" 

 

If he were to be honest, Jihoon doesn't even know why he bothered to share his rather, interesting—for lack of a better word—morning with Haknyeon in the first place. The brunette, bless his little heart, couldn't keep his mouth shut for the life of him.

 

After being friends with him for a few years, Jihoon should've known better than to expect Haknyeon to sympathize with him, let alone comfort him in a predicament like this.

 

"Well I wouldn't have to raise my voice if you didn't say something so embarrassing!" Haknyeon's moves to face him, arms flailing about in a show of frustration, and he looks about ready to smack Jihoon upside the head. “Seriously, Jihoon?” Haknyeon leans in closer and hisses, “Spicy pepper with a hint of parsley? What in God’s name does that even mean?”

 

Jihoon's about to snap back, annoyance marring his features when he realizes one important fact. _He_ doesn't even know what spicy pepper with a hint of parsley means. Jihoon only knows that it’s the perfect definition of Park Woojin, all logic and explanation be damned. 

 

Jihoon groans. “Like hell if I know!”

 

Haknyeon rolls his eyes and pokes his forehead. “Then why did you say it?”

 

All he can manage to spit back is a lame, "Well. I mean. Daehwi said it first." 

 

His statement seems to do little to subdue Haknyeon's disbelief. It if anything, only fuels his second hand embarrassment and frustration toward Jihoon. "As if that makes it any better." 

 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. 

 

Haknyeon was always one for theatrics. 

 

It really wasn't _that_ embarrassing. 

 

Actually…

 

Jihoon grimaces.

 

He must have been out of his mind. 

 

("Spicy pepper with a hint of parsley indeed." 

 

The thought translates into words like a flash of lightning and they fall from Jihoon’s lips before he can even think to bite his tongue. 

 

When he does register it, is when the pure horror strikes. 

 

Did he just… _no._

 

A short look at Woojin's face (not that Jihoon ever found it in himself to tear his eyes away) confirms Jihoon’s worst fears.

 

Woojin looks part shocked, part unimpressed, and 100% amused.

 

 _He did._

 

He, Park Jihoon, really just called Woojin a spicy pepper with a hint of parsley out loud.

 

Two questions run across Jihoon’s mind:

 

Is it too late to shut the door in Woojin's face? 

 

Or better still, is it too late for Jihoon to go back in time and sabotage his own birth? 

 

It takes all the willpower in Jihoon to maintain eye contact with Woojin, who only seems to be enjoying his obvious suffering; Jihoon is more than certain that his inner turmoil shows on his face. 

 

"Hello to you too, Jihoon" Woojin snickers. The corner of his lips quirks to one side in that way of his and the small action is so much more attractive than Jihoon remembers. The thought is like a punch to the gut and Jihoon thinks he might just die. Woojin looks more amused than off-put though and Jihoon takes a moment to thank the heavens above that Woojin was blessed with a sense of humor. "Is that a new pet name?" 

 

Jihoon chokes on air.

 

"Uh." _Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Okay. Just go with it._

 

"Yes. Sure?" Jihoon swallows and opens his door wider, nodding for Woojin to come in. Jihoon sticks close to the door as the red head (fuck that color looks so good on him) slips in. Jihoon ducks his head in hopes of hiding the raging blush he knows is taking over his face. "Something like that.")

 

The scene playing in his head does little to nothing to ease the thundering of Jihoon’s heart. If anything, it only intensifies the dread settling in his stomach.

 

Haknyeon shouting at him is only making Jihoon shrink into himself more, hugging his knees to his chest. "Stop! Yelling!" Jihoon whines, running his hands up and down his face in frustration. It’s only eight in the morning for God’s sake. Jihoon is stressed out as is and he definitely does not need Haknyeon, or anyone for that matter, to nag and tell him what he already knows. "I blanked, okay?! I just saw him and all I could think was spicy pepper with a hint of parsley! Sue me!"

 

Haknyeon groans, as if he was feeling just as stressed out as Jihoon, which was not humanly possible, and then he perks up. Jihoon can practically see the gears turning in his head and for some reason, it makes Jihoon want to plug his ears and look the other way.  " _Oh._ I understand now." Haknyeon leans back in his chair, a pleased smirk tugging at his lips, as if he knew something Jihoon didn't. 

 

“Understand what?" Jihoon hisses, his temper flaring for a moment. In all the nineteen years of his life, Jihoon was, more or less, pretty even-tempered but with his emotions flying all over the place, the overstimulation was starting to take a toll on him. 

 

Haknyeon grins.

 

"You think he's attractive."

 

Jihoon blinks.

 

Then he laughs.

 

Jihoon’s boisterous laughter only comes to a low chuckle when he notices Haknyeon is staring at him with an unimpressed glare.

 

Did Haknyeon seriously just suggest that? Knowing Jihoon and Woojin's dynamic?

 

"Uh. Excuse me?" Jihoon asks after his laughter ceases. His mouth goes dry and he straightens in his seat. "Well…  I mean. Yes? Obviously? I guess?” Jihoon swallows when Haknyeon shoots him a smug look. “Woojin went from a seven to a solid ten."

 

Haknyeon laughs, shaking his head slowly and he pats Jihoon's shoulder as if to console him. "Oh, sweet, innocent Jihoon. No. You're _attracted_ to him." 

 

Jihoon knows exactly what Haknyeon is saying and the implications that come along with it; the added emphasis was hard to ignore afterall.

 

Jihoon chokes, eyes flying open. "No."

 

The homeroom teacher enters the classroom before Jihoon can formulate a proper reply, but he has a pretty good feeling that Haknyeon wouldn't believe him even if he had had the time to deny his so-called "attraction" to Woojin.

 

Jihoon wants to slap the pleased smirk off of the Jeju-do boy's face.

 

While the teacher drones on and on about school rules and her expectations, as teachers always did on the first day of school, Jihoon finds his mind wandering. 

 

Him?

 

Attracted to Woojin?

 

Jihoon scoffs.

 

Yeah right. 

 

("It oddly fits, though?" Woojin laughs, cocking his head to the side as he regards Jihoon. Woojin’s eyes are glazed over, soft, almost far away, like he's recalling a fond memory. "And believe it or not, it's not the first time I've been told I'm spicy." 

 

Jihoon snorts, shoulders slumping as he relaxes (Woojin seemed to have always had that effect on him) and closes the front door behind him. Jihoon trails after Woojin who instinctively heads towards Jihoon's room. "Do I even want to know?" 

 

Woojin shoots him a smile over his shoulder and it's one of those “I'm kidding but I'm not” smiles. "I'm hurt that you don't remember." 

 

The way Woojin smiles and says that raises more than one red flag in Jihoon’s mind.

 

Jihoon tenses and he gets this odd, heavy feeling in the bottom of his stomach. Jihoon halts at the doorway and stares at Woojin’s face, desperately trying to read him. "Remember what?" 

 

Was he missing something? 

 

Woojin hums and he stretches across Jihoon's bed like a house cat. "Don't worry about it. It'll come to you eventually." And the bastard has the audacity to smirk to himself, as if he knows something that Jihoon doesn't. 

 

"Oh, you wanna play that game? Really, Park Woojin?" Jihoon scoffs and he narrows his eyes at the male lazing around in _his_ bed, under _his_ blanket, hugging _his_ pillow. "Come on. Just tell me." 

 

And Woojin just snickers, sticking out his tongue like a third grader. "Make me." 

 

Oh, that little brat. 

 

Jihoon lunges at Woojin, throwing himself onto the lump on his bed and raining down an attack of slaps. "Stop being a punk!" 

 

Woojin lets out a surprised squeal, the sound rough yet high-pitched, but he wastes no time in attacking Jihoon back, big hands swatting at Jihoon’s face. "Who you callin' punk, punk?" 

 

Prior to Woojin leaving to Busan for the summer, Jihoon and Woojin would fight on a daily basis so this was nothing new to either of them. By now minor, the key word here is _minor_ , acts of violence were more or less their way of showing affection.

 

In around two minutes, Jihoon manages to force Woojin (with much more strength than he remembers ever having to use on Woojin in the past) into a finishing maneuver he had seen on WWE. "Tell me already, you rotten tomato!"

 

From where Jihoon has his face smushed into the mattress, Woojin blinks innocently (and Jihoon's chest does _not_ fill with warmth at the pretty flutter of Woojin's eyelashes, _nope_ ) "Rotten tomato, huh?” Woojin smiles, sly like a fox. “If I remember correctly, you were calling me a spicy pepper not even fifteen minutes ago, though?" 

 

Jihoon splutters.

 

Damn Park Woojin and his faultless memory.

 

"W-what—" And the bastard uses Jihoon's momentary surprise to his own advantage, freeing himself from Jihoon's tight grip within the next second. And suddenly Jihoon is on his back, his hips weighed down by Woojin's thighs, wrists held captive.

 

Jihoon blames his flaming cheeks on the impromptu wrestling match they had just had and the heat of late summer. Jihoon was not at all blushing because Park Woojin looked like a complete five course meal hovering over him like that, eyes dark and mischievous. 

 

Jihoon was not blushing at their close proximity. Nope. Not a chance. 

 

His heart did not pound like a wild animal against his rib cage when Woojin leans in the slightest, gaze teasing as he stares down at Jihoon. 

 

Nor does his breath hitch when Woojin whispers, his voice lowered an octave. "Better luck next time, babe." 

 

Jihoon's lips part in a soft gasp.

 

Did Woojin just "babe" him?

 

The teasing glint in Woojin's eyes tells Jihoon that whatever is going to leave his mouth will be pure gold.

 

"Or should I say, spicy pepper with a hint of parsley?"

 

Park Woojin does not disappoint.)

 

Jihoon tries not to let his mind wander further, forcing his thoughts to remain on literally anything but Park Woojin; the scratch of Haknyeon’s pencil as he sketches doodles on the surface of the desk, the faded marks of white on the chalkboard, the sunlight filtering through the windows, the dust particles floating in the air without a care in the world, the woman at the front of the classroom.

 

He tries not to think about how irresistable Woojin had looked with his tousled red hair and wrinkled school uniform, shoulders and chest filling out the simple dress shirt and blazer in a way that had Jihoon’s eyes wandering every now and then.

 

He tries not to shiver when he recalls how Woojin's heated gaze had bored into his back as he changed into his own uniform.

 

He tries to forget the welcomed weight of Woojin's hand on his hip as he lead him through the crowded hallways.

 

He fails.

 

  
  
**→ [ 1 ] texts to hwiparam** **  
**

 

daehwi

 

  
  
**→ [ 1 ] texts from hwiparam** **  
**

 

i told u so

 

  
  
**→ [ 1 ] texts to hwiparam** **  
**

 

i didn't even say anything yet you bitch

 

  
  
**→ [ 2 ] texts from hwiparam**

 

okay but i'm right, aren't i

 

like always

 

  
  
**→ [ 2 ]** **texts to hwiparam** **  
**

 

ugh shut up

 

and stop being right all the time it's annoying

 

  
  
**→ [ 2 ] texts from hwiparam**

 

you better snatch him up before it’s too late

 

do us all a favor

 

 

 **→ [ 2 ]** **texts to hwiparam**

 

what does that even mean

 

daehwi

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so happy people actually like and read my stuff ? ? thank you for all the love ? ?


	3. oh barnacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i love a powerful squad

_"Seriously, Park Woojin?"_  Hyungseob deadpans, slamming his lunch tray onto the table as soon as he arrives. "Right in front of my fucking salad?"

 

Jihoon snorts around a spoonful of pudding, shifting to his left to give Hyungseob more space to sit.

 

"First of all, that's not a salad." Mina quips, pointing at Hyungseob's soup bowl, laughing when Hyungseob gives her the finger.

 

Ahn Hyungseob has always been a big, fat question mark to Jihoon. They've been good friends for nearly 3 years now, sure, but Jihoon doesn't think he'll ever come to  _really_  understand Hyungseob, at least not to the level that Euiwoong or Woojin understand him. But despite his lack of understanding, Jihoon doesn't think he's ever related more to the raven haired boy.

 

Jihoon swallows, glancing forward.

 

Seated across from him is Park Woojin, tapping away at his phone. 

 

And, well, next to Park Woojin, there's Choi Yoojung.

 

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't have a problem with Yoojung, she's great; friendly, funny, adorable by default thanks to her small stature, and talented. Jihoon's known her since forever; she was the first girl they allowed into their friend group (they had a strict 'boys only' rule for all three years of middle school). Doyeon had followed, and then sophomore year came around and with it came Yeri, and then came Mina, and so on.

 

Long story short, he and Yoojung are close enough that he considers her to be quite high on his List of Female Best Friends (falling behind only Doyeon and Yeri).

 

And Woojin -- well, Woojin is Woojin, his Best Friend of 7 years.

 

Jihoon's mother has always told him that it was a good thing for his loved ones to be comfortable with each other, so really, Jihoon shouldn't be bothered by the scene playing out before his eyes.

 

But he is.

 

Yoojung was looking a bit  _too_  comfortable for his liking, pressed up against Woojin's side, her small hands splayed across his bicep, holding his arm captive. 

 

Jihoon's only been watching their interaction for two minutes but he's gathered enough information to form three conjectures:

 

1.) Subject A (Choi Yoojung) sees Subject B (Park Woojin) in a different light now that he's smokin' hot. 

 

2.) Subject A sucks at flirting. 

 

3.) Subject B is either A.) oblivious of Subject A's newfound affection towards him B.) ignorant C.) blind or D.) all of the above.

 

Woojin glances up at the mention of his name, amusement thick in his voice, "What did I do this time?" 

 

Hyungseob throws a glare at Woojin, and perhaps Jihoon is reading too far into it, but Hyungseob almost looks genuinely offended.  _"What did I do this time?"_  Hyungseob mocks in a high pitched voice, which for the record, sounds nothing like Woojin, "You  _know_  what you did, what you're doing, Mr. you-ain't-really-fuck-with-me-way-back-then-but-how-bout-now."

 

Woojin pokes at inside of his cheek with his tongue (Jihoon tells himself it's natural to be distracted by the action) and he shoots a glance at Hyungseob before directing his attention back to his phone. "I have no idea what you're talking about." But the thing is, Woojin knows exactly what Hyungseob is talking about (Jihoon didn't miss the knowing glint in his eyes); all of them do, except the person of interest, of course.

 

Said person of interest only seems to tighten to her hold on Woojin when he shifts to slide his phone in his pocket. From the dazed, wonder-struck expression on her face, it's as if Woojin cries glitter and has rainbows shooting out from his ass. Jihoon doesn't think he's ever seen Yoojung be so...  _girly,_  for lack of a better word. She's being all giggly and cutesy and Jihoon thinks he might need to slap her upside the head. (A glance around the table is more than enough to assure Jihoon, he's not the only one).

 

Doyeon, for one, seems disgusted by Yoojung's behavior, her features pulled into a sneer that conveys pure distaste.  

 

Jihoon rests his chin on his palm, tuning in on their conversation.

 

This was going to be good, he can tell. 

 

"Choi Yoojung." Doyeon whisper-yells, throwing a cherry tomato at Yoojung's head. It hits the brunette right in between her eyebrows, and Jihoon thinks he hears Doyeon mumble a small "Bullseye" under her breath. It's become quite clear to Jihoon now, that their dynamic is shockingly similar to that of he and Woojin; prior to today of course, because even though he'd never say it aloud (perhaps due to his chronic inability to adapt to change, or perhaps due to an entirely different reason), something's changed between the two of them.

 

Yoojung hisses, "Um,  _ow?_  What do you want?"   

 

Doyeon smiles sweetly, "Care to explain why you've latched onto Woojin like a damned barnacle?" 

 

Jihoon sips his tea.

 

"I am  _not_  a barnacle."

 

"Yes you are."

 

"No I'm not."

 

"But you're acting like one."

 

"Am not."

 

"You sure 'bout that?"

 

"Yes."

 

 

"Then let him breathe. I'm feeling smothered just looking at him."

 

"No."

 

"Why not?"

 

"I don't want to."

 

"Barnacle."

 

"I'd rather be a called barnacle than let go of these biceps." 

 

Hyungseob, who's been glancing back and forth between the two, chokes on his soup.

 

Mina pauses mid-bite, blinks, then continues eating.

 

Samuel almost falls off the bench in a bout of laughter, uttering an incredulous "Oh my God" through his wheezing.

 

Yeri picks up her stuff and moves to a different table. 

 

Doyeon's staring at Yoojung like she's grown another head. 

 

Yoojung doesn't look even the slightest bit embarrassed. 

 

Woojin, well, he just seems amused, his gaze flickering between the two girls. 

 

Doyeon now definitely looks like she's going to slap Yoojung upside the head, and Jihoon pushes her back onto the bench just as she begins to rise, lunging for the small brunette across the table. "Are you out of your damn mind--"

 

Yoojung squeaks, using an unfazed Woojin as a human barrier between her and the taller girl.  

 

"Relax." Jihoon does his best at calming the raging girl, running his hand up and down her back. Up, down, up, down. Eventually, it does seem to work -- her agitation's subsided now, and she's only mumbling curses under her breath as she stabs at her lunch; something about a stupid half-pint asshat -- and Jihoon can leave Doyeon to her own devices without worrying about a cat fight breaking out.  

 

He huffs, shoving a chicken strip into his mouth. 

 

"What would we do without you, Ji, our very own peacekeeper?" Woojin muses, his lips quirked up into a teasing tilt. 

 

Jihoon scoffs. "Fuck off." The words roll off his tongue easily and they lapse into smooth banter.

 

"I've only just come back and you already want me gone?" Woojin gasps, and he's waving his finger in the air, as if to scold him, "That's no way to treat your best friend." 

 

"Who says you're still my best friend?" Jihoon fakes innocence, a sweet smile on his lips as he beams at the red head, "You've been replaced."

 

"Hate to break it to you, sweets," Woojin has the audacity to lean in, as if to tell a secret, and his eyes are glowing with mischief and Jihoon is almost mildly interested, "but I don't think there's anyone else that can bear the soul crushing burden of being your best friend." 

 

"Why, that's where you're wrong, _sweets._ " Jihoon bites out, making a show of draping himself over the unsuspecting raven haired boy to his left. "My new bestie is Hyungseobie." 

 

"What do you want--" Hyungseob says through a mouthful of bread. 

 

Jihoon tries not to cringe at the crumbs falling from Hyungseob's mouth as he nuzzles his nose into the boy's neck. Jihoon meets Woojin's stare, a smirk playing on his lips. "See? The best of buds." 

 

And although he and Woojin both know that there's no way Woojin can be replaced, let alone by Hyungseob, Woojin still humors him; and his eyes flicker between Jihoon and Hyungseob, gaze thoughtful as he assesses them. He scoffs a moment later, "As if."

 

Woojin gives Jihoon one last glare before turning his attention to his lunch, his gaze is playful and it brings a small smile to Jihoon's face. Despite him looking almost like an entirely new person, it's still the same Park Woojin that he knows; childish, sarcastic, quick to clap back when Jihoon steps out of line. 

 

Jihoon feels a wave of fondness crash down on him.

 

(Jihoon doesn't notice the way Yoojung's gaze darts between he and Woojin, or when her lips tug into a knowing smile. 

 

Nor does he notice when she slowly moves away from Woojin.)

 

**chat: choi yoojung - kim doyeon**

 

_(3) texts to **maybe its maybelline**_

_bitchc,,,_

_confirmed_

_i'm not the only one thirstin for woojin_

_(2) texts from _ **maybe its maybelline**__

_fcking hell yoojung_

_icb you just figured that out_

 

_(2) texts to **maybe its maybelline**_

_uh_

_whats that supposed to mean_

 

_(1) texts to **maybe its maybelline**_

_doyeon??_

 

_(2) texts to **maybe its maybelline**_

_icb you're ignoring me when i'm sitting right in front of you_

_i can literally see you read my texts_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!! thank you so so so much for all the love and support ♥ ♥ ♥ 
> 
> seeing new comments always makes me smile like a fool -- so please comment and follow me on twitter @applewooj if you feel like it and slide into my dms so I can love you


	4. that's good to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my head ass doesn't know how the korean school system works so i'm basing this off of the american school system

“You know, Jihoon,” a pause, “you’ll probably win anyway, right?” 

 

Jihoon pauses, “What do you mean?” When their gazes meet, Woojin’s is still clouded with sleep, his hair messy and falling into his eyes. The sunlight filters into his room in soft stripes, casting shadows across Woojin’s skin, and Jihoon doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sight more beautiful. 

 

They’re in his room, Woojin stretched across his bed while he sits cross-legged on the ground, back resting against his bookcase. Woojin’s just stirred awake from his daily after school nap and he hangs off of Jihoon’s bed, body gone slack. “Homecoming.” He pulls Jihoon’s blanket with him, tan skin glowing against muted olive, “You can win homecoming king even without all the gimmicks.” 

 

Ah, homecoming, the most anticipated event of the fall.

 

Jihoon’s never been a big fan of school dances but if one thing is for sure, it’s that he’s going to snatch that crown.

 

Winning homecoming king has been a dream of his since he was a young sprout; all those years ago, back in like, freshman year. He can still remember watching in admiration from the bleachers as Seongwoo was crowned Homecoming King of the Class of 2014. Jihoon remembers the confetti and the rose petals and the roaring cheers and applause from the elated student body, and he remembers thinking “I want that.”

 

Fast forward to the present and it was finally his turn; to hear the thundering applause and bow before his peers as their homecoming king, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything else more.

 

But of course, nothing in life comes easily, and with September soon coming to an end, Daehwi had suggested he come up with a promo poster to hang around the school, to quote unquote put himself out there and build up his reputation. So Jihoon, well, being him, had complied, finally putting his single semester of graphic design to good use. 

 

Jihoon scoffs, returning his attention back to the open photoshop window. “And what makes you say that?”

 

Woojin doesn’t respond immediately, leaving Jihoon’s question to linger in the air. 

 

It’s something Woojin does often, and Jihoon’s come to recognize the action as one of two things: a.) he needs time to mull over his answer or b.) he wants Jihoon to pay close attention to what he’s about to say, and something in him — a best friend’s instinct, if you will — tells Jihoon it’s the latter.

 

So he closes his laptop, returning the red head’s steady gaze.

 

It’s always been hard to read Woojin, with his almost scary ability to keep a perfect poker face; but sometimes, just sometimes, Jihoon thinks he’s got him all figured out. Jihoon’s attentive, he notices what others wouldn’t, and it gives him an advantage when it comes to people like Woojin, whose actions and expressions are subtle, minimalistic even. 

 

If Jihoon was anyone else, perhaps he would’ve missed the way Woojin’s lips quirked up into the smallest, gentle smile, but he’s not someone else, and he saw it, and now he can’t take his mind off of what that tiny, brief smile could mean, but perhaps he doesn’t have to think about it afterall, because Woojin spells it out for him, 

 

“You’re Park Jihoon, it’s impossible to not fall for you.”

 

Jihoon’s breath hitches, and it’s only a moment, a second at most, but it almost seems as if time has come to a standstill, as if the heavens have given him all the time in the world to just take everything — to take Woojin — in. And in that moment, all he can see is the soft flutter of Woojin’s eyelashes and the glint of sincerity within the deep chocolate of his eyes. 

 

“You think so?”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

“That’s good to know.”

 

Woojin hums. 

 

For a moment neither of them speak, and Jihoon isn’t sure if it’s because there’s nothing left to say, or if it’s because there’s too much to say.

 

Either way, Jihoon thinks it’s better — easier — this way, to leave the conversation there, and perhaps Woojin feels the same, because the red head doesn’t make a move to say anything for the next few minutes, in fact, he doesn’t move at all.

 

Jihoon’s eyes dart up in suspicion at the sudden realization and despite the mental eye roll he does, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips when he looks at Woojin only to see the other’s eyes closed, hands tangled in Jihoon’s blanket. “Are you going to go back to sleep now?” 

 

Woojin snorts, eyes still closed, and his words are muffled but Jihoon thinks he can make out a tinge of fondness in his voice (Woojin has always been bad at hiding his emotions when he’s sleepy), “You know me so well.”

 

Jihoon can only sigh, it’s barely seven in the evening and Woojin really shouldn’t be sleeping already — let alone right after a three hour nap — but by now Jihoon knows better than to try to fix Woojin’s sleep schedule, and he instead makes a mental note to make him eat a large breakfast to make up for the skipped dinner, “Leave room for me.”

 

“I always do.”

 

(It’s ass o’clock in the morning, 3:27 AM staring back at him in the obnoxious, red light of Woojin’s alarm clock, and Jihoon’s still awake, lying on the floor of Woojin’s bedroom, unable to fall asleep despite how physically drained he feels. He’s been staring blankly at a spot on Woojin’s ceiling for what feels like a century, unmoving in the quiet of the night.

 

Woojin’s been snoring away for a solid 4 hours, and he looks so peaceful that Jihoon almost thinks twice about waking him. 

 

Almost. 

 

“Hey, Woojin.” Jihoon sits on the edge of Woojin’s bed and he nudges the other, impatient fingers pressing into the steady rise and fall of Woojin’s side, “Woojin.”

 

He doesn’t get a response at first but he’s persistent, and he digs into Woojin’s waist until he hears a grumble, a low sound coming from the back of Woojin’s throat. Jihoon thinks he meant to say “What.”

 

Jihoon feels sheepish now that Woojin’s awake and grumbling under his breath; something about how annoying Jihoon is for waking him. “I can’t sleep.” He admits quietly.

 

Woojin’s grumbles only intensify, “For fuck’s sake, Jihoon, what am I supposed to do about that? Count sheep or something.” Jihoon watches as Woojin buries himself under his covers again, apparently keen on ignoring him. And knowing Woojin, he wouldn’t have a hard time tuning out Jihoon’s pleas, and if the positions were flipped, Jihoon would probably ignore Woojin too, but right now, Jihoon is desperate and he needs Woojin to know that he’s serious. 

 

So he makes a blind grab for Woojin’s arm, his voice coming out small when he speaks,  _ “Woojin, please.” _ And Jihoon supposes he sounded as vulnerable as he feels, for Woojin halts immediately, muscles tensing under his grasp, and all of a sudden he’s facing him.

 

Jihoon’s eyes have long adjusted to the dark so he can clearly see the concern marring Woojin’s usually serene features, all furrowed brows and small, pouty frown. 

 

“What’s wrong?” 

 

Jihoon shrugs, “I don’t know.” he edges closer to Woojin, hugging his knees to his chest, “I just don’t feel right. My body is so, so tired, I could literally die, but my mind won’t fucking slow down, and I-I don’t know.” He just feels so defeated, and a whimper leaves him before he can even register it. 

 

Woojin’s brows draw together even more at the sound of Jihoon’s distress but he seems to know exactly how to help him, for he huffs in what seems like determination, and opens his arms. 

 

Jihoon pauses, blinking. For some reason he’s hesitant, unsure of whether or not it’s okay to accept Woojin’s silent invitation. It’s ridiculous of him to even have to think about it, really, because it’s not like physical affection between them is uncharted territory — they spoon more often than either of them will ever admit — but  _ this, _ this feels different. 

 

But there’s something about Woojin’s reassuring smile and the softness in his eyes that pushes Jihoon to lay down beside him. He’s enveloped in the next moment, Woojin throwing an arm over his waist, and he’s pressed against Woojin’s body, face settled into the crook of his neck, and Jihoon thinks that this, the comfort and warmth that comes with Park Woojin, is everything that he’s ever needed.

 

And they stay like that for awhile, simply existing beside each other, and it’s enough.

 

The size of Woojin’s bed, though, may not be enough, Jihoon thinks. Even pressed to the other’s body, Jihoon’s rear end is at the edge of Woojin’s small twin bed, and he’s more than positive he’ll be kicked to the ground by the other once they both fall asleep.

 

“Your bed is way too fucking small for the both of us.” Jihoon mumbles into the cotton of Woojin’s shirt, smiling when he feels the rumble of laughter vibrate through the other’s chest.

 

They lapse into silence again after that, and after awhile Jihoon is starting to think Woojin’s fallen back asleep, which is reasonable, considering it’s pushing 4 am now, and he’s ready to succumb to sleep himself, when he feels a soft peck on the crown of his head. Woojin’s voice is low, a mere whisper muffled by Jihoon’s hair, but Jihoon hears him loud and clear. 

 

“There’s always room for you beside me.”)

 

Woojin isn’t looking, his eyes aren’t even open, so Jihoon lets himself smile at the fond memory, lips pulling into a grin, “Touché.”

 

Jihoon opens his laptop again, eyes wandering across the bright blues and reds of his promotion poster. He stares at it for a long time, for too long, long after Woojin’s breathing evens out, soft snores serving as white noise in the calm quiet of Jihoon’s room.

 

Half an hour passes before Jihoon exits the document window, taking a single glance at Woojin’s sleeping figure before he clicks ‘Don’t Save’. 

 

_ (1) texts from  _ **_hwiparam_ **

_ how is the poster goin _

 

_ (2) texts to  _ **_hwiparam_ **

_ oh uh _

_ i deleted it? _

 

_ (3) texts from  _ **_hwiparam_ **

_ exc u s e me _

_ what _

_ u did wh a t _

 

_ (2) texts to  _ **_hwiparam_ **

_ i'm sorry!!! _

_ i decided that i don’t need them to win _

 

_ (2) texts from  _ **_hwiparam_ **

_ hyung, i know ur confident and all _

_ but who the fuck told u that _

 

_ (1) texts to  _ **_hwiparam_ **

_ woojin _

 

_ (1) texts from  _ **_hwiparam_ **

_ Dear Lord, give me the patience _

 

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "that's good to know" ffs i can't deal with jihoon


	5. fields of red roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> play fighting and sleepovers have become recurring themes in this story and I'm not quite sure how to feel, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy this long overdue update, sorry for the wait

It’s odd, Jihoon thinks. He and Woojin, there’s something off between the two of them.

 

Their routine has remained the same. They still hang out like before, they joke around, walk to and from school together, but it feels different.

 

It’s not exactly a bad change per se, but it’s a change nonetheless, and it feels larger than the both of them, almost palpable. Perhaps Jihoon is overthinking it, finding sparks of _something_ where there’s none. As much as he wants to, Jihoon can’t ignore it either; not when he can feel it — whatever _it_ is — in the air, big and daunting and hanging over his head.

 

When they’re play fighting, rolling around on the floor, shirts wrinkled, eyes shining with a fiery competitiveness, Jihoon’s heart races for an entirely different reason than the small adrenaline rush he’s used to. Woojin is the one that’s pinned but it’s Jihoon’s chest that feels tight, skin crawling with a heat akin to hellfire.

 

Jihoon’s come out on top, but for some reason, it almost feels like the victory is Woojin’s.

 

Woojin lays relaxed under him, caged under Jihoon’s thighs, and his hoodie rides up the slightest, a sliver of glistening tan skin peeking out at Jihoon as if teasing him. Jihoon tries to keep his attention on Woojin’s face but perhaps that’s even worse; what with Woojin’s eyes half-lidded, faint pink coloring his cheeks, wet tongue sliding across pretty lips.

 

Fiery red hair against the soft beige of Jihoon’s sheets, it’s a stark contrast, one that Jihoon finds suits his tastes perfectly. Woojin paints a sinful picture; one crafted from a lazy, effortless kind of seduction that has Jihoon reeling. Woojin is beautiful, heart fluttering even, and heart fluttering has never been a word Jihoon would use to describe him — attractive, eye-catching maybe, but _heart fluttering,_ now that’s uncharteded territory — but Jihoon can’t quite seem to place another word on the show Woojin’s putting on, and it’s _outrageous_ , because he isn’t even _trying._

 

Jihoon’s unable to look away, eyes following the other’s movements. What makes it worse though, is that Woojin is completely aware of the effect he has on Jihoon. Woojin is many things, but he’s not oblivious, and he notices Jihoon’s stare even before Jihoon himself does. There’s a teasing smile pulling at Woojin’s lips but he doesn’t say anything, only returning Jihoon’s steady gaze.

 

The air between them is charged. It’s not like the easy, comfortable atmosphere that he’s used to when he’s with Woojin. It feels intimate and Woojin’s gaze feels heavy, and Jihoon still doesn’t quite understand what’s happened, what’s changed between them, but it scares the shit out of him.

 

He’s never been intimidated by eye contact, nor has Jihoon ever been the type to feel embarrassed by someone’s stare, but he finds himself looking away. Heat rises to his ears, body moving on its own accord, and he’s scrambling off Woojin in a flash, making sure to keep a space between them when he lays down beside him.

 

Woojin gives him a few moments before he turns on him, propped up on his elbow, and Jihoon feels more than sees his concerned stare.

 

“You okay?”

 

Jihoon heaves a long sigh, “Yeah, I’m fine,” he makes an effort to look Woojin in the eye when he continues. “I’m just a bit tired today, that’s all.”

 

Woojin’s mouth twists into small frown, and Jihoon knows Woojin doesn’t believe a single word from his mouth but the redhead lets it go anyway. For the little mercy that he's gifted, Jihoon is glad, for he doesn’t quite know if he has any answers to the questions Woojin’s left unasked.

 

The silence that follows is odd, tense, heavy, and yet somehow Jihoon feels at ease, relieved even. He finds solace in knowing Woojin isn’t one to probe, never pushing too far when it really matters. Jihoon lets his eyes fall closed, not bothering to swat away the warm hand that comes up to fiddle with his ear, “Do you want me to stay the night?”

 

Everything in Jihoon is telling him to say no; he can barely handle being within an arm’s reach of Woojin, how is he going to sleep knowing Woojin is mere inches — or with Woojin’s sleeping habits, centimeters — from him? But the fingers carding through his hair seem to work magic on him.

 

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

 

Woojin’s breathing skips, and he’s close enough that Jihoon can hear the sharp breath that he takes. It’s almost as if he hadn’t expected Jihoon to agree, but Woojin seems to shake it off in the next moment, “Okay.” Woojin emits a low grunt as he lifts himself off Jihoon’s bed. “I’m going to get my stuff, I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

All Jihoon catches when he lets his eyes flutter open, propped up on his elbows, is a glimpse of Woojin’s back as he closes the door behind him.

 

True to his word, Woojin comes walking through his front door less than half an hour later, just in time to help set up the dinner table. Woojin’s stayed for dinner a million times, having hung around Jihoon since primary school, and he moves about Jihoon’s kitchen like it’s his own, not in an ounce of hesitation in his movements as he grabs four sets of chopsticks from the drawer beside the sink.

 

As Jihoon lounges by the counter, simply watching Woojin, he realizes just how well Woojin fits in his life.

 

Woojin’s grown accustomed to being around his parents, and when his mother — who’s always been a bit skittish — doesn’t even startle when Woojin sneaks up beside her and asks what’s for dinner, Jihoon realizes it goes both ways.

 

“Park Jihoon!” Jihoon suppresses a groan when he registers his mother’s scolding tone. “What are you doing sitting there while Woojin sets the table? He’s our guest!”

 

“Can’t you just let him do it? He’s almost done.” Jihoon whines. “And what do you mean guest? The brat basically lives here.”

 

“Jihoon.”

 

Jihoon’s shoulders slump in defeat when he catches his mother’s glare, hand on her hip as she points a soup ladle at him. His mom’s always been a kind, soft spoken woman but there was no use fighting her, for she never quite took no for an answer. Jihoon sighs, mumbling under his breath as he bounds towards the dinner table where Woojin is. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

 

When he slides up beside Woojin, Jihoon just barely resists the urge to smack him with the stack of plates the other hands him. Woojin’s snickering, not even bothering to hide his amusement as he places a spoon next to every pair of chopsticks.

 

Jihoon sneers, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

 

Woojin turns to glance at him, lips stretched into a wide grin, eyes crinkled with mirth, “Yes. As a matter of fact, I am.”

 

“You’re sleeping on the ground tonight.”

 

Not even Woojin’s sparkling, puppy dog eyes can save him this time, nope. Jihoon is not at all swayed by his huge pout nor the small whine that slips past his lips.  

 

Woojin seems quiet and cold on the outside but it’s rather the opposite. Woojin could talk Jihoon's ear off without breaking a sweat and within the safety of Jihoon’s home, he really never does seem to shut up, but Jihoon’s parents don’t seem to mind. His mother and father only listen intently to Woojin’s recount of his summer in Busan with fond smiles.

 

It’s only an hour later, once Woojin is in the shower and Jihoon’s left alone in his room that he gets some peace and quiet, burrowed under his comforter. He’s almost drifted off to sleep when Woojin comes back, the tell tale creak of Jihoon’s bedroom door signalling his return.

 

Jihoon moves to free up space for Woojin, pressing himself against the wall behind him. “Turn off the light before you come over here.”

 

“Thought I was sleeping on the floor.” Woojin snickers, but he obeys nonetheless, throwing his towel onto Jihoon’s desk chair before moving towards the switch by the door.

 

The last thing Jihoon sees before the lights cut is Woojin’s amused grin, wet hair falling into his eyes, and he grumbles when he hears Woojin’s snickers growing louder, “Shut up before I rethink being so gracious.”

 

Jihoon feels more than sees Woojin climb into bed, the mattress dipping from his weight. Jihoon doesn’t bother to question it when warm hands grab at the front of his shirt, pulling him in closer. Woojin’s always needed to hug something to sleep, he'd said something about feeling more secure with a pillow or plushie in his arms. He had explained it to Jihoon before and Jihoon had accepted it without question.

 

Up until now, he’s paid no mind to it, but with Woojin’s voice low beside his ear, body smelling of his favorite body wash, Jihoon’s starting to regret never bothering to resist.

 

“Goodnight, Jihoon.”

 

Jihoon takes a moment to curse the heavens above before heaving a long sigh, “Goodnight, Woojin.”

 

Soon thereafter, Woojin’s breathing evens, and his grip on Jihoon grows lax. Under the soft moonlight streaming through Jihoon’s curtains, Jihoon can just almost make out the rise and fall of Woojin’s figure.

 

It’s in the quiet silence that Jihoon allows himself to think.

 

He prides himself in being quick on his feet, able to make the right decisions in a short span of time, a skill that comes in hand in sports like soccer, but even after weeks of thinking, Jihoon still doesn’t know how to approach whatever it is that’s going on between them. But perhaps he doesn’t need to know. His mind is in total disarray, worries and thoughts strewn about, but none of that quite registers with him nor does it concern him, for his heart has always had more control over him and right now, his heart is telling him to stop thinking.

 

_Woojin, Woojin, Woojin._

 

It’s an ongoing mantra that his heart has grown fond of.

 

He leans in, close enough that he can feel Woojin’s breaths, a steady in and out, against his skin. Jihoon’s never been this close to someone, and it’s an odd feeling. It's almost like a realization that dawns on Jihoon, an acute awareness that he could count every individual eyelash that fans across Woojin’s cheeks if he wanted to.

 

With help from the light given by his alarm clock, Jihoon’s eyes adjust to the darkness within minutes, and he thinks that he could map out every line and contour of Woojin’s face by memory; the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow of his eyebrows, the dip of his cupid’s bow.

 

Jihoon freezes when Woojin shifts a bit in his sleep, a quiet groan easing from the back of his throat. His lips part the slightest, but it’s enough to draw Jihoon’s attention. Jihoon sucks in a breath, body moving on its own accord as he brings up a finger to graze Woojin’s plush bottom lip.

 

He’s crossing a line that he’s not quite sure he can go back on once this rush of courage blows over, and he knows that. God he does, and he’s terrified, but there’s nothing Jihoon wants, _needs_ , more than to close the distance between them.

 

So he does.

 

It’s innocent, chaste. It's a mere press of Jihoon’s lips against Woojin’s and he’s pulling away in the next second, but it’s enough to set Jihoon’s skin on fire, cheeks glowing crimson like a field of red roses.

 

Jihoon’s hands shake with the knowledge of what he’s done, of the doors he’s thrown open and can’t close. He’d thought the worst case scenario was waking Woojin and having to soldier through the awkward explanation he’d owe as a result, but _this_ , this surge of emotion, like white hot electricity coursing through his veins, this is far, _far_ worse.

 

His heart fills with anxiety, along with something else that Jihoon isn't sure he wants to name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little smooch to end a shit ton of fluff

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [@applewooj](https://twitter.com/applewooj) if you want to or send me stuff on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/applewooj)


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